Sermons: #call

Showing posts with label #call. Show all posts

Sunday, February 6, 2022

Casting Nets

February 6, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Simon and the others had caught nothing. After a disappointing night of fishing, they were cleaning their nets. There is a crowd gathering, and the focus of their attention, Jesus, hops in Simon’s boat and asks him to push off so he can speak from out on the water. As his voiced carried across the water to the folk gathered on shore, Simon had a front-row seat.

This was probably not the first travelling preacher Simon had heard. There had been others. Some, like John had called people to repentance. Others tried to gather an army to take on the Romans. This one was different. He wasn’t trying to get people to go somewhere in particular, or do something for him; rather, he spoke about becoming closer to God, cleaning up their hearts and souls, and caring as much for others as they did for themselves. He may have even used the cleaning of the nets as a metaphor for washing away sins and becoming like new again.

What he did next was also different. He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”[2] In practical terms, this was a big ask. First of all, they mostly fished in the shallows, closer to shore. That’s where the fish were more likely to be searching for food, and would be an easier catch. Then, knowing they had worked all night and caught nothing, Jesus asks them to go out to fish again. Then again, Jesus seemed so confident that they would catch something. “If you say so, I will let down the nets.”[3]

Doesn’t it seem as though it’s when were at the end of our rope, we’ve tried and tried without success, that God steps in, Jesus reaches out to us, not knowing whether we’ll even answer. In this moment with Simon, Jesus takes the risk, choosing this fisherman out of all the others, asking him to do what seems impossible. Neither of them could know there would be fish to catch out there, but Jesus asks him to trust, and try anyway.

People like the predictable, the routine. It is scary to take a risk on something new. Yet that is what Jesus is asking, of Simon, and of us, to put out into the deep, unfamiliar waters, to break with our routine and allow the extraordinary to become possible. Keeping to the safe and familiar, to the shallows, keeps us from experiencing the wider, deeper world out there. The most profound and significant experiences of God and life are found in the unknown, the unfamiliar, the moments when we’re asked to stretch beyond what we know to something more.

For Simon, there was something about this man that compelled him to leave the shore, and the shallows, and cast his nets in the deep water. Maybe it was that no one had ever asked him to trust in that way, by someone who risked looking the fool if this didn’t work. If there were no fish out there, Simon would not be surprised, and there would be no loss except for the need to clean the nets again. The worst that could happen is we don’t catch anything, again.

When the nets began to strain with the catch, Simon knew this was no simple preacher. He becomes aware that he is in the presence of the divine. He also recognizes that he is unworthy of such holy recognition, a sinful man who would rightly fear the power of God. What happens next is the real moment of transformation. What happens next is why we all respond to Jesus with trust, gratitude, and hope.

Jesus, the Son of God, mediator of the divine in human form, does not strike down Simon for his sin, his doubt, nor for any of his failings. Instead, Jesus casts a net to bring him in. Jesus casts a net to pull in James and John too, to capture their hearts and invite them into the relationship which will change their lives. “Do not be afraid,” he says, I’m not here to punish sinners, but to change you into saints. I am here to call you to the work of casting nets to catch people.

The thing about the net that Jesus is casting is that it is not the kind of net that turns animals into food. This is not a net that imprisons, but a net that frees. This is a net that pulls people from danger and death into safety, life, and love. “From now on you will be catching people.”[4] Not to make them captive, but to save them and set them free.

Simon and the others have been caught in the net of Jesus. Their lives transformed by this experience, these fishermen become disciples. In a commentary on this passage, Howard Gregory captures the change in Simon. “Having hauled in this huge catch of fish, having been given the opportunity to make a good return, thus reversing the earlier fruitless expedition, Simon now does the strangest thing. He pulls ashore his boat, with the catch, and walks away from it, livelihood and all.”[5]

Many of us recognize this moment of transformation. Something changes, perhaps our circumstances, perhaps something inside, and we make a vocational change. We may be forced out into the open water, or choose to walk away from what is not working for us anymore. For some, like me, it is a call to service in the ministry. Perhaps, like me, you have also made a life change. I used to work at a bank, and I made pretty good money. I walked away, and it cost me. It meant putting God at the center of my life, changing my focus from my self toward others. It has meant hard work, sometimes after a long night when no fish were caught. But following the Master has its rewards.

Not everyone in the crowd on the shore was convinced to follow Jesus. We only know that Simon, James and John went with him that day. But the net that is cast by the Lord is a big net, and we are still being caught in it today. I am grateful for the change it brought about in my life. I am blessed to have made a positive difference in the lives of people I have served. And I pray that you, too, may feel that net holding you close to the One who transforms hearts and sets spirits free. Amen.

[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[2] Luke 5:4.

[3] Luke 5:5.

[4] Luke 5:10.

[5] Howard K. Gregory, Pastoral Perspective on Luke 5:1-11 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Vol. 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p 336.

Sunday, January 24, 2021

Being Called

January 24, 2021

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Mark 1:14-20[1]

Please pray with me. Insistent God, by night and day you call your people. Wake us with your voice and shine the light of your grace into our lives so that we may respond to the call of Christ in mission and ministry. Amen.

“So, what do you do?” That is the question that often begins a conversation with someone new. What we usually mean by that is “What do you do for a living?” or “How do you make money?” or even “What sports do you play?”

That question can sometimes give a good impression of who a person is, at least on the surface. But it usually doesn’t go deeper than that. What do I do? I’m a minister. And if the conversation doesn’t end at that point, there is the can of worms of explaining the United Church of Christ, how I can be a “priest” and be married with kids, etcetera. But after all that, you really have only scratched the surface of who I am.

I love ice cream; I’m very particular about my milkshakes. I watch sunsets. I dream of travelling to Mars, or taking my family to Honolulu. I miss my friends in Denver. I play guitar, from time to time.

So I tried asking a different question once. “What would you be doing if you could do anything?” And the first person to whom I posed this question startled me with her answer. “What I do right now. I’m an archaeologist. I am helping to excavate ruins in Mexico.” Wow, right? She didn’t even have to think about it.

I wonder what would be different if we answered that question, “What would you be doing if you could do anything?” with “What I do right now. I follow Jesus.” We are Christians after all. We are the modern-day disciples of Jesus, and following him is what we do. “What do I do? I follow Jesus.” Whether or not we choose to follow is up to us, but we have been called. We have been invited. We have been seen by Jesus, he has fixed us in his gaze, and he has said, “Follow me.”

Now, you and I were probably not called in the same way as Simon, Andrew, James, and John. Jesus didn’t appear to me and say, “Come on, time to be a minister.” My calling sprouted in high-school when I joined group of youth planning and leading retreats each year at a camp called La Forêt. I served two years on this committee learning skills for leading groups and planning meaningful experiences. I was, as a youth, in ministry with young people and adults. After college I served as a camp counselor as often as possible, taking on more and more responsibility, and was eventually asked to direct the program.

I served as a delegate to the UCC General Synod in 2001. Through the workshops, worship, and speeches, I heard God’s clear and persistent call to ordained ministry. My peers recognized God’s call on my life and my skills for leadership. My pastor and other leaders in my church encouraged me to go to seminary, and I entered Chicago Theological Seminary in 2003.

However it may differ from the way the prophets and disciples were called, we have been called by God. We have been called by God, who formed our inward parts; who knit us together in our mothers’ wombs. We have been called by God who knows who we are in the depths of our being, who gave us our talents, our gifts, and nurture our abilities. We were called by God before we were born. We have been invited to participate in the captivating, ensnaring work of the master. “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.”

Not everyone responds with an enthusiastic “YES!” when God calls them. We might respond to God by saying, “Me? Are you sure?” “Who am I that I should go?” (Exodus 3:11); “What shall I say to them?” (3:12); “What if they do not listen?” (4:1); “Send someone else” (4:13). You hesitate. You are reluctant. You feel inadequate to the task. Well, I’ll tell you a secret. You’re not the only one. These are the same objections that Moses raised when God spoke to him out of the burning bush. “Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy” said Jeremiah. Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Jonah all questioned their call. And that is actually a good thing. Why?

When God calls people to service in the world, it is not those who think they have certain skills or who seek leadership. Rather, God calls those who understand how inadequate they are for the task, yet are humble enough to depend upon God for guidance and empowerment. The great leaders of the Bible did not campaign for the position; they were placed there by God, or by the community. Not a single leader of the Old Testament is portrayed as having in themselves the abilities to be a great leader.[2]

In fact, if you look at who God chooses to do special things, they are usually people who are totally outside the traditional power structures: David, the youngest child; Deborah, a woman; Abraham, a wandering Aramean; Jacob, a scheming liar; Gideon, a coward; Peter, a simple fisherman; Mary, a teenage girl from a remote country village.[3]

What made them, and makes us, capable of doing what God is calling us to do is found in the answer that God gives to the objections: “I will be with you.” We don’t need to rely on our own strength and abilities. God promises to give us the power and the ability to accomplish our task. God is with us, even, as the psalmist says, in the valley of the shadow of death. The most frightening places we can imagine are filled with the presence of God.[4]

OK, I’ll go. So, what is it I’m supposed to do again? Where is it, exactly, that we are called to go? It’s not really a specific “job” or occupation, but rather a call to live out God’s beautiful purposes not just for our personal lives, but for our communities and for all of creation. It is living with an understanding of ourselves and everyone around us as precious children of God.[5]

Now, it is easy to see the beauty and wonder of God’s creation when we gaze at the stars, the purple mountain majesties, the endless oceans. It is easy to see God’s purpose in a newborn baby, a child discovering the thrill of the swings, or when a poet takes our breath away. What is harder is to see that same beauty and purpose in ourselves, especially for those of us who have been alive a while and know our failures, our shortcomings, our faults. Even though we spend a lot of our time trying to polish our image, to hide our weaknesses, and gather up credentials to prove to others how good we are, we know the truth.

Yet the truth is more than what we think about ourselves. We are not worse than we should be. We are better than we think and better than we deserve to be. Why? Because, underneath everything, we are created in the image of God, in the image of goodness, and beauty, and strength. One day you may lose everything you have, everything you have earned and all that you value; but, no one can ever take away from you the fact that you are a child of God and that God’s image is embedded in your very soul.

The author and spiritual guide, Marianne Williamson, put it this way:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.[6]

You, my friends, are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are precious children of God. And God is calling you to live like you believe it. Amen.

[2] Dennis Bratcher, “The Prophetic ‘Call’ Narrative: Commissioning into Service” from http://www.crivoice.org/prophetcall.html.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Kate Huey, “Called and Recalled” from http://www.ucc.org/feed-your-spirit/weekly-seeds/called-and-recalled.html.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles" (New York: HarperOne, 1992).

Sunday, January 17, 2021

Come and See

January 17, 2021

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 1:43-51

What brought you to church today? What compelled you to log on to the live-stream? It is a four-day weekend for the schools, after all, and a three-day weekend for many businesses. Some of us, of course, have to be here. But even if we didn’t, I suspect we would be here anyway. There is, certainly, the joy that comes from gathering as a community, even at a distance. We all enjoy the music of the organ and the hymns. And it is good to set aside time to hear the scriptures read, to pray, and sing. But could it be that we are attending worship today because we hope to catch a glimpse of God at work? Could it be that we want to see someone who knows us, who understands what we’re struggling with, sees into our hearts, who shares our hopes and our concern for the world? Could it be that we want to see, somewhere among us, Jesus son of Joseph?

What brought you to church for the first time? For most of us it was our parents. Somehow in a congregation somewhere, maybe even here, they encountered something holy, something sacred and worthy, and they wanted us to have that experience too. But if it was a choice, whether to come to this church or another, was it because of someone who invited you? Did they say, “Come and see”?

We don’t like to use guilt to get people to come to church. Yes, we try to track attendance, but not so that we can call up the people who weren’t here and tsk, tsk at them. We don’t use the cram-it-down-your-throat kind of approach. If you’re here on a Sunday morning, we’re glad to see you. And if we missed seeing you this Sunday, it’s because we hope you’re alright and want you to know we care. You came here today, I hope, because you were invited and you felt welcome, and that feeling never went away. You’re here because the gospel of God’s love for us and all the world is so good that someone invited you to check it out. It is news that is too good not to share with those we care about.

Philip encountered something in meeting Jesus that was more than he expected. Surely there must be something missing between Jesus-found-Philip and Philip-found-Nathanael. Maybe it was that quick, but I suspect that it was more than the words “Follow me” that gave Philip the idea that Jesus was “him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote.” We don’t know, however. What we do know is that Philip found a person so intriguing, who had such good news to share, that he had to share it. So, he found his good friend, Nathanael.

That Philip picked Nathanael to introduce to the Messiah is an interesting choice. He must have known Nathanael well, and if he did, he must also have expected Nathanael to be skeptical. Nathanael scoffed at the unimpressive résumé of Jesus son of Joseph of Nazareth. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

Nazareth was a small village, maybe 300 residents. One scholar relates that “The Hebrew Scriptures never mention Nazareth, much less associate it with messianic expectations.”[1] Nazareth is nowhere special. In Nathanael’s view, Jesus’ hometown is a rather insignificant village in Galilee. Wouldn’t the Messiah have more prominent parents and come from a more significant town? And yet, when he does come and see, Jesus looks into his heart and knows him, and Nathanael is never the same.

God often chooses people who don’t seem like they’ll amount to much, those with an unimpressive résumé. Samuel was a young man, only twelve years of age, serving as a Temple assistant to Eli, the High Priest at Shiloh, when God first called him. Samuel became the last of the Hebrew Judges and a prophet in Israel. It was Samuel who anointed the first two kings of Israel, Saul and David. David, the famous king, was the youngest son and a shepherd. An unwed, pregnant girl named Mary became the mother of God-With-Us. The son of a carpenter from an insignificant town grew to become the most significant figure in history. Something good did indeed come from Nazareth, and he overcame the world.

There was a young man, inexperienced in public leadership, his theological diploma still wet with ink, who was called upon to lead a movement for freedom. He lived in a city from which “nothing good” had come. His name was Martin Luther King, Jr. In December of 1955, King was elected head of a newly formed protest group, the Montgomery Improvement Association. This was four days after Rosa Parks was arrested for violating segregation laws.

On that day, over sixty-five years ago, when the bus boycott began, no one could have predicted we would erect monuments and establish a holiday to commemorate the life of Dr. King. But God has been known to call upon people much less prepared, and much less gifted than Dr. King, to rise to the occasion and take on what seems insurmountable.

And it did seem insurmountable. For far too long the African-American people of Montgomery, Alabama, faced shocking and humiliating treatment for simply trying to ride the bus to work. Early the next morning, the day after Parks’ arrest, Edgar D. Nixon called King and the Rev. Ralph Abernathy, and together they called for a meeting of ministers and civic leaders to discuss a proposed boycott.

The decision to boycott the buses was exciting, and the next morning an army of women and young people took seven thousand leaflets and distributed them by hand. Yet, as King describes in his autobiography, an article in the Sunday morning newspaper caused him to have doubts about their approach, and he began to think seriously about the boycott method. He asked himself “Isn’t it a negative approach to the solution of a problem? Was it true that we would be following the course of some of the White Citizens Councils (the white-supremacist organizations opposed to racial integration)? Even if lasting practical results came from such a boycott, would immoral means justify moral ends?”[2]

Ultimately, King came to a different understanding of what the boycott was really about. “As I thought further,” King wrote, “I came to see that what we were really doing was withdrawing our cooperation from an evil system, rather than merely withdrawing our support from the bus company… From this moment on I conceived of our movement as an act of massive noncooperation. From then on I rarely used the word ‘boycott.’”[3]

On Monday morning, after a long and worrying weekend, wearied but no longer doubtful of the morality of the protest, King waited with his wife, Coretta, to see what would happen. King heard Coretta cry, “Martin, Martin, come quickly!” Outside their window they saw a slowly moving empty bus. As he drove through the morning rush of traffic, it became apparent to King that “A miracle had taken place. The once dormant and quiescent Negro community was now fully awake.”[4]

A year later King spoke at an address to the First Institute for Nonviolence and Social Change. These were his words:

Little did we know on that night that we were starting a movement that would rise to international proportions; a movement whose lofty echoes would ring in the ears of people of every nation; a movement that would stagger and astound the imagination of the oppressor, while leaving a glittering star of hope etched in the midnight skies of the oppressed. Little did we know that night that we were starting a movement that would gain the admiration of [people] of goodwill all over the world. But God still has a mysterious way to perform wonders. It seems that God decided to use Montgomery as the proving ground for the struggle and triumph of freedom and justice in America. It is one of the ironies of our day that Montgomery, the Cradle of the Confederacy, is being transformed into Montgomery, the cradle of freedom and justice.[5]

The call of God often comes to those the world believes to be insignificant. The invitation to come and see brings us face to face with much more than we expect. It brings us into an encounter with God, with Jesus, and with a new understanding of who we are. In Jesus of Nazareth, Nathanael found the one who could look into his heart, and he called him the Son of God. Through Martin Luther King, Jr. and the citizens of Montgomery, God performed wonders and revealed to an oppressed people a new expression of human dignity. They showed us all that day that the sons and daughters of God are not the few, not the many, but all of us. They showed us that each person is important to God.

When we hear God calling “come and see,” when we encounter Jesus in the room with us, it changes how we understand our inherent worth, the value of our human life and all human life. When Nathanael encountered Jesus, he encountered the presence of God fully expressed in human form. And when we learn to see and value the image of God that resides within ourselves, and within all other people, then we can no longer be complicit in the violence of the world. We can no longer be complicit in the oppression of others. We can no longer cooperate with an evil system.

The struggle for justice and peace continues. You have seen what is happening and that people still march in the streets. You have seen too much that makes you suspicious, that makes you doubt yourself and your ability to make a difference. You have seen the power of violence to destroy human life. But that is not all there is to see.

There is non-violent resistance to see. There is courage in the struggle for justice and peace to see. There is bravery in the face of terror to see. There is equality and respect to see. There is beauty, peace, and love to see. There is music and prayer, laughter and tears to see.

I invite you to tell others, come and see. We’re just a nowhere church filled with nobodies, but come and see. Come and see the Body of Christ that gathers on Jefferson Street in Union. Come and see what a community of faith can be. Come and see the family that we can be together. Come and see how we walk through grief together. Come and see how we celebrate together. Come and see the power of faith, hope, and love at work. Come and see the people who remind me of Jesus. Come and see the loving spirit of the living Christ. You’re invited. You’re welcome here. Come and see. Amen.

[1] Leslie J. Hoppe, Exegetical Perspective on John 1:43-52 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Vol. 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), p. 261.

[2] The Autobiography of Martin Luther King, Jr., edited by Clayborne Carson (New York: Warner Books, 1998).

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

[5] "Facing the Challenge of a New Age" by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., address delivered December 3, 1956 at the First Annual Institute on Nonviolence and Social Change, Montgomery, Ala. Available from: https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu.

Sunday, November 8, 2020

Get Ready

November 8, 2020

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Matthew 25:1-13 [1]

People get ready, there’s a train comin’
You don’t need no baggage, you just get on board
All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin’
You don’t need no ticket, you just thank the Lord.[2]

We are all waiting for something. We all seek to know the purpose for our lives. So, we go about our days trying to find that purpose, that something that will give our lives meaning. We try to gather those things about us that we think we need to have in order to be ready for life. We are often so preoccupied in making sure that we have the right stuff – the right clothes, the newest phone, oil for our lamps – that we miss the call when it comes.

The bridesmaids were waiting for the bridegroom to meet them. The wedding banquet was going to be soon, and they would need their lamps to light the way there. They all took their lamps, but some did not take flasks of oil with them. The bridegroom was delayed, and they became drowsy and slept. Then the call came: The bridegroom is here!

My best friend came to me and told me that his dad was dying. Jeff had ALS, Lou Gehrig's disease, and was fading fast. As the tears came down his face, my friend said that he was going to need me, and asked me to perform the funeral service. I said I would do everything that I could, and so I waited for the call. I gathered some material for the service, prayers and scripture, and I felt prepared. I never packed a bag, however. The next few weeks were busy. Then the call came: Jeff's heart stopped. He's in the hospital.

When the call comes, will you be ready? When someone needs you to show love, compassion, kindness, will you be ready to give it? Will you respond, or do you need to make sure that you have everything together? Some of the bridesmaids were foolish and brought no oil for their lamps. When the call came, they went off to buy more oil, to get themselves ready. When my friend called me at work, I went home to pack a bag of clothes, to get ready.

And the door was shut. The opportunity was missed. Have you ever missed an opportunity? Have you ever had the chance to be kind to someone, to show someone that you love them, to be there when a friend needed you, but missed that chance because you didn't feel ready? Opportunities pass us by, the door is shut, and we feel like we missed something big. The bridesmaids who went to buy oil were left behind, and the door was shut. I went home to pack my bag, and by the time I got to my friend, Jeff had died. An opportunity was missed.

The kingdom of heaven is like this? The door gets shut and we can't get in? That's not fair! I wasn't ready to go! I didn't have the right clothes! I didn't have enough oil! I wasn't ready!

But wait a minute! To what are we being called? My friend needed me to be with him when his father died. He didn't care what clothes I was wearing. The bridegroom needed the bridesmaids to come to the banquet. He didn't care if their lamps went out. We are being called to the kingdom of heaven. It doesn't matter if we have the right things. We aren't going to be judged on whether we have oil for our lamps, whether we have on the right clothes. That is not the point! The kingdom of heaven is not about punishment and reward. That is not the point. The point is that we have been invited to share in the kingdom of heaven, and all we need to do is say yes.

I was being invited to share in a special moment with my friend and his family, to be with them when they needed a friend to share in their pain. The bridesmaids were being invited to a wedding banquet, to a feast, to share in a celebration! We are invited to the kingdom of heaven, to celebrate God's love for us and share a sacred feast with one another.

Will you answer the call? Are you ready to receive the invitation? Are you ready to leave behind the things that don't matter and choose the way of love, compassion, kindness, and justice? To follow Christ means to live in readiness. When someone comes to us in need, when we are invited to share in someone's joy, or someone's pain, are we ready?

It is not always easy to answer the call. It comes at midnight. It comes when we are tired. It comes when we are in the middle of something important. It may be a long road. We may lose things on the way. Our lamps may go out. It is Jesus we are following, after all. We might lose our lives! But the kingdom of heaven is where we are going.

And the good news is that we already have what we need. Those who were ready were the ones who went with the bridegroom to the banquet. And when they got there, they didn't need their lamps anymore. All they needed was to be present at the banquet with the bridegroom, and to share in the celebration. My friends knew how far away I was, and I went there ready to stand by their side. And when I got there, I didn't need anything except my love for my friends, to listen, and share in their pain. When someone comes to you – who needs love, compassion, and kindness – you already have everything you need within you. When you respond to the invitation, when you answer the call and join with another sharing in their joy, sharing in their pain, you enter the kingdom of heaven.

There's a train a-comin'. It's the train to Jordan, the train that will bring us to the kingdom of heaven. And we don't need no baggage, we just get on board. Faith is the only key we need. Faith – that Christ is leading us to the kingdom. Faith – that, when we stand at the door of death, there will be a resurrection. So, get ready! Your faith is the lamp that will light the way. Keep your lamp trimmed and burning; and when it comes, answer the call. Are you ready?

Sunday, January 19, 2020

What Are You Looking For?

January 19, 2020

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 1:29-42

“Hi, can I help you find something?” The common greeting from a retail employee, expressing welcome, helpfulness, kindness. “May I help you?” Another common question, also expressing helpfulness and kindness. “What are you looking for?” Maybe it’s that hard-to-find pair of pants that actually fit, or the next best gadget that will solve all your problems. Take the question out of its context and it becomes just one more mundane response meant to make the sale.

“What are you looking for,” in this context, however, is an existential question. We are all looking for something in life. Some meaning, some purpose, something that drives us, energizes us, makes us happy. In our day-to-day lives we have hopes and dreams. We want to achieve our goals, feel good as much as possible, and maximize our quality of life. We want to be happy. And we can find some happiness, most of the time, if we work hard, are frugal with our money and time, and take care of the people and things that matter to us.

We often get stuck, however, on some external object that doesn’t really meet our needs. Maybe we think that the next job, a promotion, or a new romantic partner will be the thing that brings us happiness. Maybe it’s an actual object, like a new car, or a bigger TV. Now, getting a great job or meeting the right person can make you happy. But we often find that the job turns out to be more stressful than we thought, or the amazing person turns out to have a shadow side. The shiny new object is great, until we become accustomed to it, and then it blends into the background like everything else.

Is this the American way? We focus on external achievements and material things, neglecting our internal needs, our spiritual well-being. We focus on competing and winning, rather than supporting and collaborating with each other, taking time for ourselves to wonder, dream, and pray. We each have a hunger for something more, but what we find often leaves us still empty.

Andrew, the disciple of John the Baptizer, was looking for something more. He was a fisherman. He, and his brother, Simon, had learned the trade from their father, and were probably decent fishermen. But they wanted more. There’s no corporate ladder to climb when you’re a fisherman. If you wanted a fancier boat, you had to make it yourself. And even finding the right partner is tough when everyone in the village already knows everyone else’s shadow side. Simon and Andrew longed for more meaning and purpose, something greater to be a part of.

They had heard of this wild person baptizing people and went to hear what he had to say. They learned about repentance, about preparing for what was to come. John wasn’t the answer to their search, however, as he himself pointed out. “After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” There were rumors of someone who would come to bring glory back to Israel, the Messiah. Now that was something worth looking for. Maybe that was what John had been talking about.

Then, Jesus walked by. “Look,” John exclaimed, “here is the Lamb of God!” John didn’t hold them back, and they followed Jesus. It was in that moment that the question, THE question, came. “What are you looking for?” They didn’t really answer, perhaps not knowing what to say. “Rabbi, where are you staying?” Teacher, we want to be taught by you. We want to follow you. We want you to show us what we’re looking for. “Come and see,” he said.

What did they see? A minister named Melissa Sevier imagines the scene this way:

Do they see him interacting with family? Hosting the Sabbath meal? Praying over the food? Singing a psalm? Laughing at a joke? Telling stories? Do they see him sharing leftovers with the poor? Talking to unclean people on the way home? Talking about what to do about a widowed neighbor or a depressed friend? Do they hear some of his teaching, or is just seeing how he lives on a random day life-changing enough?

Whatever they experience, it is interesting or moving enough for them to tell some others about it, and to give them the same invitation to come and see.[1]

They would see. And they did find something, perhaps more than they were looking for. They found a teacher. But this teacher wouldn’t teach them how to build a fancier boat or make it big in carpentry. This teacher would teach them how to find the love of God planted deep inside themselves and bring it to life in others. They found a guide. But this guide wouldn’t teach them which roads to Jerusalem were the safest or quickest. This guide would show them how to walk the hard road, the road that would eventually lead to the cross, but to walk with hope in their hearts, compassion in their touch, and love in every encounter.

They found the Messiah. But this messiah would not lead them in glorious battle to retake Israel from the Romans and put a king like David back on the throne. This messiah would lead them in glorious battle against disease, distress, hopelessness, emptiness, and heartlessness. This messiah would lead them, not to find a destination, but to see the Kingdom of God wherever they went, and to proclaim the presence of God in the midst of the journey.

They found the Lamb of God. This ruler would not become a king or conqueror, but would choose instead to sacrifice himself in order to save others. This leader would show them how to be servants, to put the needs of others ahead of their own. This master would not seek power and control, but rather to take away the sin of the world.

They found the Son of God. In this person, Jesus, they found the one who understood them better than they understood themselves. They found the one who would challenge them, test them, make them grow and change in ways they could hardly imagine. Simon would become a different person, taking a new name, Cephas, or Peter. They found a teacher who would make them into teachers, a healer who would make them into healers, a brother who would welcome them into the household of God.

All of that is yet to come, of course. This was only the beginning. What were they looking for? What did they find? A teacher, a master, and so much more. What are you looking for? A sense of purpose, some meaning in life, a way to be set free? Come and see. Maybe you’ll find it on this journey of faith. Maybe you’ll find that what you’re looking for is something you already have, the seed of love, planted by God, waiting for you to give it away. Amen.